


Room for One More Troubled Soul

by readrofbooks (friendlyghost)



Series: Christmas Fic(lets) 2013 [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Bullying, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Karkat Insult Generator, M/M, POV Second Person, Pre-Slash, davekat - Freeform, descriptions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 06:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlyghost/pseuds/readrofbooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider is trying to start his winter break when he runs into a troll getting beaten up after school. Letting people get bullied is not cool and so not ironic, so he decides to help. Alternately titled 'The Kitkat Fic'.</p>
<p>A Christmas present for <a href="http://roselafuckinglonde.tumblr.com">Frances</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room for One More Troubled Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for the use of one homphobic slur, one time in the fic.
> 
> Regular warning for the overuse of tropes and the [Karkat Insult Gnerator](http://www.generatorland.com/usergenerator.aspx?id=3970). :)
> 
> The title is from 'Alone Together' by Fall Out Boy.

==> DAVE: GO TO ART CLASS

Your name is Dave Strider, and you are almost free for winter break. Key word being almost. You are currently in art class, and having finished your portfolio, are working on more panels for your webcomic _Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff_. That thing is a work of art. Too bad your teacher can't appreciate it.

You stop working. Close your laptop and look at the clock above the door. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

And there's the bell. You pack up your bag and put on your coat (shut the fuck up, 60° is hella cold for Texas). No need to stop by your locker, since you've already brought everything you need to study for finals home. And with that, you _stride_ out the door and start walking home.

When you get close to the gym, you hear someone say, "Faggoty troll freak, can't even get out his strifekind specibus—" and then the swift sound of someone getting kicked in the head and said head hitting the ground. Laughter follows. You're starting to feel sick; you hate bullies. Especially racist ones—yeah, trolls haven't been segregated for 30 years, but this is Texas you're talking about.

"Fuck you, you screaming cretinous piece of grubshit, at least—" the trolls said. Oh jesus fuck on a smuppet, you know that voice. That's the troll you like to annoy because his reactions are goddamn hilarious. His name is Kitkat or some shit. Well, that settles that.

==> DAVE: RESCUE THE KITKAT TROLL

You run for a few steps and then walk again. Gotta look cool if you're gonna rescue Kitkat, right?

"Hey asshats, back the fuck off," you say calmly. You have your hands in your back pockets and are slouching a little. Easiest position to access your strife specibus, just in case.

"Wow Dave, thought you were cooler than that," one of the bullies—probably the leader—says. "The freak's a goddamn troll, and a mutant one at that. You gonna join in?" Followed by another kick, this time to the poor gut. You squint your eyes in sympathy, best you can do while maintaining your poker face.

Kitkat draws in a harsh, wheezing breath. "You batshit bullshitting nookscratcher, I don't need your fucking help let alone a goddamn bulgesucking rescue—"

"Like hell you don't," you interrupt. You turn your focus to the bullies. "And besides, beating up kids who can't fight back isn't cool at all. Now back the fuck off, alright?"

They start rolling their eyes and laughing at you, but you get out your bladekind specibus. You can see the fear in their eyes (and Kitkat's, the sucker).

"Are you waiting for me to actually use this, or what?" Oh my god you hate this trope; you're more genre savvy than this. Bro would be so dissapointed.

"C'mon guys, let's get the fuck out of here," the leader says. You wouldn't be surprised if he was the only one with the ability to speak, actually.

You watch them walk back towards the school, metaphorical tails hidden deep in their not-as-metaphorical asscracks. Bless their shitty souls. Once they've gotten far enough away, you store your katana and bend down to offer Kitkat a hand.

"Fuck you, I can stand up on my own," he grumbles. You take in the full extent of his injuries: black (well, pale red) eye, bloody lip, you can't see bruises under the massive black turtleneck but you would bet your entire online empire that there's a fuckton of them. Kitkat grabs your hand anyways, and you pull him up slowly. At his full hight, he's maybe 5 feet tall, about 10 inches shorter than you. Wow, that's hella adorable.

"Thanks for the unneeded rescue, you fuckbitching incompetent asshole," he says. You have to stifle a laugh at that one—how the fuck does a little tiny troll like him come up with such creative insults? This will never get old, that's for sure.

Kitkat starts walking away but trips and falls almost immediately. Gold star for trying, lil bro.

"Oh no you don't," you say. You grab Kitkat's arm—gently, mind you—and pull him back towards you. "Dude, do you want a ride or something? There's no way you can go home on your own, you might have a concussion or something."

Kitkat turns to face you. He seems even shorter up close (what a world we live in). He appears to be considering your offer.

"Fine, fuckface, you can give me a ride. But anywhere except my home, got it?"

Family problems aren't your business, so you don't say anything. You decide to bring Kitkat back to your apartment. Might as well, right?

"Okay, cool. Let me call my bro so he can drive us," you say, pulling out your phone.

==> DAVE: CALL BRO

Kitkat freaks the fuck out immediately and launches into one of his infamous rants. You ignore him and call your Bro. He picks up after 3 rings (15 seconds).

"'Sup, lil bro?" he says lazily. You can hear the whirring sound of the sewing machine in the background. Oh god, please no more smuppets.

"Hey, I ran into a kid—"

_"Fuck you I'm the same age as you—"_

"—who was getting beat up after school and rescued him—"

_"I did not need rescuing you footfucking grubfisted shit trumpet I can take care of myself—"_

"—and told him that he could come home with me but he's not feeling well enough to walk so can you give us a ride?" You manage to finish your sentence. _Finally._

"Yeah sure, I can do that," Bro says. You almost breathe a sigh of relief, but the hard part isn't over yet.

"Oh, he's also a troll." You can practically here the suspenseful background music.

"Wow Dave, that's hella kinky."

"Bro, _no_ —"

"But sure, I can still do that. Be there in 10, alright?"

You go to say thank you, but you here the click of Bro hanging up. Well, that was easy. Wait, shit, you should probably make sure that his name isn't Kitkat.

"Um, awkward question—"

"Oh my god just ask already it can't get more goddamn awkward than this whole grubfucking situation," Kitkat practically growls at you. You can hear the capslock when he talks. You don't know how, but you can, okay?

"Is your name actually Kitkat or did I fuck it up? Kitkat stares at you in abject horror. This goes on for a full five seconds and you're starting to feel nervous he should say something soon.

"Karkat. My name is Karkat. Never mention those godforsaken lumpy apeshitting substitutes for edible candy again in front of me," He says slowly. If you didn't know better you, you could swear that his eyes were glowing with rage. You keep your cool, though. Striders always do.

"Whoa, overreact much?" you say. "Whatever you want, _Kitkat_."

The troll freaking growls at you and punches you hard in the gut.

"Easy dude, I'm the one cleaning you up from your little tussle back there," you say, just to fuck with him. All he does is glare at you. You appear to have broken the ever-ranty Karkat. Amazing.

Just as Karkat is about to retort (with something rude and hilarious, you're sure), Bro pulls up.

"You guys ready to go?" He asks, and nods at Karkat. "Sup, other little dude?" You sigh as you open the door to the backseat of the car and climb in, Karkat following you.

"Bro, can you not—" you begin, but to your surprise, Karkat kind of… _smiles_? It's more of a grimace, but right now, you'll take what you can get.

"My name's Karkat Vantas, you shameful worthless fuckjam," he grumbles.

You can see Bro's smirk (and his ironic anime glasses) in the rearview mirror. "Cute. Prepare yourself for the Strider crib, Karkat Vantas," he says. God bless (like, actually bless, not sarcasm bless) Bro for not freaking out when he saw Karkat's injuries. Like, anyone else's parental figure would have flipped their shit at being called a worthless fuckjam by a kid with a black eye and a fat lip. Not Bro though. He's pretty awesome like that.

You listen to Karkat and Bro bicker as you buckle your seatbelt (shut up, it's ironic and safety is important). As you sit in the backseat of Bro's car, you decide that Karkat is a pretty cool troll. You need to go home and take care of his injuries, though. He seems like he's been through enough as it is.

**Author's Note:**

> [Frances](http://roselafuckinglonde.tumblr.com) I hope you liked your gift!!! (If I could figure out how to get a diamond in here I would have one, promise).
> 
> And I hope the rest of you liked it as well, of course. This is my first HS fic, so hopefully I didn't disapoint you all too badly. :)


End file.
